


Ride a Cock Horse

by Persiflage



Category: Holby City
Genre: (No this isn't a take on Lady Chatterley's Lover), Alternate Universe - Historical, Bernie Wolfe/Alex Dawson (Past), Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Gender Disguise, Inspired by Photography, Minor Original Character(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, The Master Carpenter and the Lady of the Manor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24874957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Historical AU: Lady of the Manor, Serena Campbell, has an unusual request for Master Carpenter Bernie Wolfe, but the latter is not without form in this matter.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 20
Kudos: 67





	Ride a Cock Horse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevtacular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/gifts).



> This idea bloody bit my Bitch Muse on the arse on Sunday morning and despite having chores to do (they did get done!) I spent much of the day writing it. It is, I freely admit, fairly plotless porn and not much else, but whatever. Sometimes that's what you've gotta write. (I haven't specified the historical era in which this takes place, but I vaguely imagined it was the 18th century.)
> 
> The image that inspired me is at the end of the fic.

Bernie Wolfe, carpenter, stares down at the design sketch in front of her. It’s for a wooden rocking horse. It’s very similar to the two other rocking horses she’s already made in the last couple of years. There’s just one, not so small, difference between them. She’d question it with the customer, if she dared, but Lady Serena Campbell, widow to the late (and hardly lamented, to judge by the gossip) Edward Campbell, Lord of Holby Manor, is not a woman anyone dares to question. She has a notoriously short temper with anyone who thinks a woman cannot know her own mind. Besides, she’s paying a very tidy sum for the rocking horse, far more than either set of parents who’d commissioned the first two she’d made, so Bernie, who has her own secrets, sets to work on first cutting the lengths of aspen she needs, then in carving and shaping the pieces.

She makes steady progress on the project over the next ten days and has nearly finished it when Lady Serena pays a visit to her workshop down one of the side alleys out of the centre of the town. Bernie cannot afford to rent a workshop in the town centre, so she’s at the end of the town nearest the woods so that she doesn’t have to cart her wood too far.

“I came to see how you are getting along,” Lady Serena states, rather superfluously Bernie thinks, since it’s obvious a grand lady such as Serena Campbell wouldn’t otherwise be visiting the workshop of a humble carpenter.

“Take a look, my Lady,” Bernie tells her, gesturing at the rocking horse pieces, which are laid out on a separate bench from the one at which she’s working.

“Have you had much difficulty?”

“None, my Lady. I know my business and I have made two rocking horses before, though none quite like yours, of course.”

One perfect eyebrow wings up at this and Bernie flushes pink along her cheekbones as she realises that she sounds quite forward. She keeps her eyes lowered, until a pair of feet in dainty satin slippers enter her field of vision, then strong fingers clasp her chin and lift her head so that her eyes meet Serena’s. 

“There’s something different about you, Master Carpenter,” she says. “I have yet to work out just what it is, but rest assured I shall.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Bernie swallows the terror that surges through her at the other woman’s words. Because if Lady Serena discovers her secret, then she’ll be forced to leave town and that’s not something she wants to do.

“I presume you’ll have this finished soon?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Bernie will, on the whole, be glad to finish the horse because then she’ll be away from the scrutiny of too sharp eyes and a too clever mind. Of course, the fact that Lady Serena is also gorgeous, and Bernie has an immense crush on her is another reason she’ll be glad to complete this project. She hadn’t expected to find herself attracted to another woman, not after losing Alex two and a half years ago, but there’s something about the brown haired, brown eyed woman, with the cleft in her chin and the dimples in her cheeks that makes Bernie’s blood sing. Perhaps it’s the boldness with which she had approached the Master Carpenter – whom everyone believes to be a man – to order the horse: there had been neither shame nor defiance in her demeanour – just a plainly stated request, the sketched out design, and a large purse of gold. 

When Bernie had dared to ask why Serena had approached her when there are half a dozen other carpenters in town, most of them better known than herself, the Johnny-Come-Lately, Serena had raked her up and down with a glance, and said, “You’re more discreet.” A statement Bernie had found somewhat baffling until she had recalled the device she’d built for Mademoiselle Fleur last year. That had been an ingenious water-powered device that allowed a wooden phallus to repeatedly plunge into Mademoiselle Fleur’s most intimate place until she achieved a climax. She could only assume then that Fleur Fanshawe and Serena Campbell are close friends for Serena to know of Bernie’s discretion in the matter of Fleur’s device.

“I don't see the inner piece here,” Serena says after a few minutes.

“No, ma'am, that's the piece that I’m currently working on.”

The next moment a light, floral scent tickles Bernie's nose as Serena leans in, her shoulder pressing against Bernie's with a complete disregard for either the state of Bernie's clothing, liberally coated with sawdust, or the scents of wood shavings, leather, and the sweat of honest toil that hang about her person until she has a chance to bathe.

Bernie swallows dryly, far too aware of the brush of this fine Lady's woollen cloak against her bare arm. She feels heat rising through her veins as her desire intensifies both in response to Serena's closeness and at the thought that the wooden phallus she's just finished carving will, at some not too distant time, be sliding into Serena's most intimate place while she rides the sturdy wooden horse which Bernie has carved with such skill.

“When will you be able to get it installed?”

“I shall finish carving it today and I will need to oil it after that. You may send some men down to collect it the day after tomorrow.”

“Very well, Master Carpenter, I shall see you in two days time at the Manor. I shall send two men down with a cart at noon, and you may bring yourself with the rocking horse to see it securely installed there.”

Bernie briefly considers objecting to this plan, then realises she would do better to save her breath to cool her porridge as her late mother used to say. Who is she, after all, to deny the Lady of the Manor her time or assistance?

“Yes, Lady Serena,” she says, and holds her breath while the other woman turns away, her breasts, clad in silk and fine wool, briefly brushing against Bernie’s arm before Serena moves away.

“Until Thursday, Master Carpenter,” Serena says from the door.

“Until Thursday, my Lady.”

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Thursday arrives bright but bitter, the winter sunshine making little headway against the overnight frost.

The two men from the Manor arrive promptly with the cart and Bernie assists them to lift the wooden horse into the bed of the cart, then takes a seat on the tailgate, her legs dangling towards the road.

She has the wooden phallus hidden in a pocket of the leather sleeveless coat she's wearing, alongside a second item which she has designed and crafted on her own time and which she hopes Serena will also appreciate and get pleasure from using.

When the cart rolls to a stop at the servants’ entrance to the Manor house, easily the grandest house in all of Holby and certainly the grandest that Bernie has ever been within spitting distance of, a footman opens the door and beckons them in, imperious in his lofty detachment. Bernie again helps Serena’s men to lift the wooden horse down from the bed of the cart, then follows as the two men carry it inside.

She slouches, hands stuffed into the pockets of her breeches, in their wake as the footman leads them up the servants’ stairs and into what is clearly the Lady’s dressing room. The three men depart as soon as the horse has been deposited into its designated spot and Bernie pulls out an oiled rag and proceeds to clean off the fingerprints marring its polished surface. She’d stained the aspen to a light brown, a few shades darker than its natural state, then varnished it and, to her mind, it looks particularly good.

“I must admit, it looks very impressive,” comes a husky voice from Bernie’s right. 

She manages not to betray her startlement by banging her head on the horse’s stirrups and straightens up on the far side of the rocking horse.

“Good afternoon, my Lady.” Bernie bows, stuffing the rag back into the pocket of her coat.

“Good afternoon, Master Carpenter. Is everything quite ready?”

“Not quite, my Lady.”

Lady Serena’s eyebrow wings up interrogatively and Bernie pulls the phallus from the pocket of her coat. “And why is that not secured in its proper place?” she asks, her voice chilly with reproof.

“The horse rocked to and fro while it was being brought here, Lady Campbell. I didn’t believe you would want anyone to see it in action.”

The Lady’s haughty demeanour softens, her expression immediately warming. “Good thinking,” she says. There’s a flush of red on the apples of her cheeks and Bernie bites her bottom lip to keep herself from saying the things she knows she shouldn’t.

“I’d like to show you how to fit it in place, my Lady,” Bernie says, and is interrupted before she can explain further.

“Call me Serena,” she says, and when Bernie gives her a doubtful look, adds, “Not in public, obviously, as that will cause too much comment. I’m sure you’re aware that gossip flies around this town as if powered by the watermill.”

“Yes, my L– yes, Serena.” She takes a breath, then adds, “My name is Bernie.” She doesn’t give out her full name, and she seldom uses her shortened first name, either. Everyone tends to call her either Wolfe or Master Carpenter, and that suits her well enough.

“What did you wish to show me, Bernie?”

She clenches her teeth at the way her name sounds in Serena’s mouth – it’s never sounded so sensual before, not even from Alex, and she was Bernie’s common-law wife for five years before TB took her.

“This, Serena.” She lifts the saddle – which is merely a shaped piece of leather that resembles a saddle – and shows Serena the carefully fitted door in the side of the horse. She eases it open, then inserts the phallus into its proper place. Then she closes the door, lowers the saddle, and sets the horse rocking. The phallus slides out of its slot in the horse’s body, through the specially cut hole in the saddle and the horse, then slides back as the horse rocks backward again. 

“Oh,” Serena says softly. Then, “I have to try it out. Don’t go away.”

Bernie nods, then watches in astonishment as Serena slips off her dress, leaving her in a pair of silk drawers and a corset that seems to barely contain her ample breasts. 

“Help me to mount it,” Serena says, and Bernie kneels and a makes a cup of her hands for her to step into. She lifts Serena upwards and sees her throw her leg astride the body of the horse, then shift slightly. 

“Make it rock,” she orders, and Bernie obliges her. She has to bite back a moan as she sees the oiled wooden phallus slide up out of the horse’s body and into the other woman’s intimate place. She feels her own inner muscles tighten in mimicry of what she knows is happening to Serena’s body. (She had tested the horse out, of course – otherwise she’d have had no way of knowing that it worked – and she remembers how it felt.) The horse rocks forwards and backwards and the phallus slides in and out of Serena’s body, and Bernie feels her nipples hardening against the cloth binding that flattens her breasts.

She is unsurprised when Serena begins rocking the horse to and fro in a more vigorous manner and she bites her lip as she watches Serena getting fucked by a wooden horse cock. It is the most erotic thing she has ever witnessed.

And then Serena slows the horse’s movements down and says, “Join me.”

Bernie gives her a questioning look and receives a stern one in response, so she sheds her leather coat and knee high leather boots, then she steps to the side of the horse, and when Serena nods, she climbs up behind the other woman. Serena immediately says, “Put your arms around me.”

Bernie obeys.

Serena begins rocking the horse and the added weight of Bernie’s body strengthens the motions of both the horse and the phallus, which Bernie calculates means that Serena is getting penetrated deeper and harder with the two of them astride it.

“I can feel your cock against my arse,” Serena says after several minutes of rocking, startling Bernie out of the haze of pleasure she’s sunk into.

“I’m so sorry, my Lady,” Bernie says and shifts, intending to dismount, but Serena clasps her arms so that she will pull Serena off the horse if she tries to get off.

“I want to see it.”

“I – you – what?” Bernie’s sure her face must be flushed bright red and she feels completely flustered by Serena’s demand. She is also incredibly aroused.

“I want to see your cock.” Serena slows the motions of the horse, then adds, “Dismount.”

Bernie obeys, automatically reaching out to lift the other woman down from the horse. They’re standing impossibly close and Bernie finds herself getting lost in Serena’s gaze. 

“I know you’re not a man, you know,” she husks against Bernie’s mouth, then her right hand slides down the front of her breeches. “I want to see how you manage to mimic one so convincingly.”

Bernie groans involuntarily, then reaches down and helps Serena to unbutton the front of her breeches, before shoving them down off her hips. She wears cotton drawers which she slides down, exposing the leather phallus that she wears to mimic a man’s cock. There is a leather strap lying just above her hips to which is joined a second strap in two parts: the shorter part stretches down to hold a circle of leather that is fixed around the base of the phallus, holding it firmly against the top of Bernie’s sex; the longer part of the strap stretches down from the circle of leather, between her legs, and up over her arse to meet the strap around her hips.

Serena curls her fingers around the girth of the phallus, then slides her hand down to the base, before dragging it back up and Bernie groans again as the tug on the phallus pulls the straps tighter between her legs.

“Can I make you climax like this?” Serena asks, her tone merely curious.

“Yes, my Lady. I cannot spurt like a man, of course, but I could climax.” Bernie is so incredibly aroused that she has no room to be embarrassed.

“And can you penetrate me with this?” She slides her hand back and forth.

“I have a wooden peg I can insert into it to make it stiff enough for penetration.”

“Do you have it with you?”

Bernie nods, flushing again. “It’s in one of the pockets of my breeches.”

“Put it in.”

Bernie scoops up her breeches, pulls out the peg, then slides it into the phallus. 

Serena’s eyebrow goes up as she gives Bernie a long, considering look, then she leads her, her hand again wrapped around the phallus, from the dressing room into her bedroom. 

They arrive beside the most opulent bed that Bernie’s has ever seen. She’s made a four-poster only once in her career, but she never saw it with the bedding and mattress in place, and this one makes her anxious when she considers the fact that she’s not bathed since yesterday.

“Take off the rest of your clothes.”

Bernie doesn’t even consider refusing. She pulls her shirt up over her head, dropping it to the floor at a gesture from Serena, which leaves her in nothing but the cloth binding that flattens her breasts.

To her surprise, Serena doesn’t immediately insist she remove that, too. Instead she reaches down to begin unlacing her corset. Bernie immediately clasps both her hands in her own and asks, her voice low and husky, “May I?”

“Yes.” 

Bernie swiftly begins unlacing the corset, easing it away from Serena’s body and lowering it onto the floor before turning her attention back to the other woman. 

“You are so beautiful,” she murmurs reverently. 

Serena clasps Bernie’s right wrist and guides her hand to her breast. “Touch me, please?”

Bernie obeys, cupping the full weight of her ample breasts in her hands, then lifting the one in her right hand so that she can lap at the hard little bud of her nipple. Serena groans and clasps Bernie’s head, holding it in place, so she laps a few more times before sucking it into her mouth. Serena’s moan of pleasure strikes Bernie to her core and she sucks harder, then gently nips the flesh around her areola.

“Bernie!” Serena’s gasp cuts through the haze of pleasure that’s filled Bernie’s mind and she lifts her head to see Serena’s eyes are dark with desire. “Bed.”

Bernie bends her knees, then scoops Serena up, one arm behind her knees, the other wrapped across her back. She takes the three paces to the bed, then reverentially lowers Serena into the middle of the bed. 

“Take these off,” Serena says, tugging at her silk drawers, and Bernie obeys, noting the slit in the crotch which had allowed the earlier penetration by the phallus. She can’t help kneeling on the end of the bed and gazing at the woman laid out before her: Lady Serena Campbell is a gloriously curvy woman, with an untamed bush that hides her intimate place, which is glistening in anticipation.

“Have you looked your fill yet?”

Serena’s question reminds Bernie that she’s not here merely to gaze at this vision of womanly loveliness.

“I humbly beg–”

“Don’t,” Serena says. “Don’t beg and especially don’t humbly beg. Come up here and take your fill of me. I can see you want to.”

Bernie moves up the bed and settles between Serena’s legs, which she has spread open in readiness. “How hard do you want to be penetrated?” she asks.

“Hard,” Serena says firmly. “Hard and fast.”

Bernie nods, then shifts forward to lie on top of her as she slides the phallus into Serena’s intimate place. Then she begins to move, thrusting deep and hard, and quickly picking up the pace of her movements. 

“God. Yes. Just like that. Fuck me!” The last command is practically yelled, and Bernie can only hope that all the staff are downstairs and well out of earshot or everyone will know that Serena is being incredibly well fucked this afternoon.

“Put your mouth on my breast again,” Serena commands after a little while, and Bernie, ever obedient, obeys, sucking, licking, and even biting on occasion, first one, then the other of Serena’s breasts until they are both glossy with her saliva and ringed around the areolae with the imprint of her teeth.

Then she finds herself being tugged back up again and they kiss hungrily, their kisses sloppy and their breathing ragged as Bernie continues to thrust deep and hard into Serena.

Then Serena cries out in pleasure, a sustained wail filling the air as she climaxes hard around Bernie’s phallus, and Bernie topples over the edge of her own climax only a few moments later. As soon as she can move again, she eases the phallus out of Serena, then flops onto her back beside her.

“Just – just give me a minute,” Bernie gasps. “And then I’ll move.”

Serena shifts to lie on her side next to Bernie. “May I take this off?” she asks, touching the binding over Bernie’s breasts.

“Yes.” She whispers her agreement, then pushes herself to sit upright so that Serena can more easily unwrap the length of cotton that flattens her breasts. She can’t help thinking that it’s just as well Mother Nature did not see fit to endow her with such generously proportioned breasts as Serena’s or she’d never be able to pull of her ruse so effectively.

“How did you know I’m not a man?” she asks as Serena unwinds the fabric until the last part slips down Bernie’s torso, leaving her breasts bare.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Serena says thoughtfully. “Some sixth sense, I think. You’re very convincing, by the way. In fact, Fleur was so convinced that she concluded that you’re a man who prefers men because you never once leered at her or made her feel that she was disgraceful for wanting that water-powered phallus you created for her.”

“Have you – have you seen it in action?” Bernie asks curiously. Fleur had spent half an hour using it before letting Bernie leave after she’d delivered it. And while it was a treat to see the thing that she’d spent so much time crafting actually being used, it had also made her feel awkward as she did not desire Fleur as she has desired Serena since the first time she’d seen her in the centre of Holby town, berating someone for driving their buggy into the side of Serena’s carriage.

“I have. That’s how I knew to come to you for my rocking horse. Fleur sang your praises when she demonstrated it to me. It’s a marvellous piece of engineering and craftsmanship.”

“Thank you.”

“And Fleur, while a lovely friend, is not a woman I find desirable. In case you’re wondering.”

“It’s none of my business,” Bernie points out. Although she is secretly very relieved to hear this, given how desirable Serena is to her. 

Serena smirks, then ducks her head and sucks one of Bernie’s nipples into her mouth, and she clutches at the other woman’s shoulders to keep herself upright. After a moment, however, Serena guides her to lie down and resumes sucking, moving onto her other breast after several minutes. 

Then she positions herself between Bernie’s legs and lowers herself onto Bernie’s phallus, both of them moaning with pleasure.

“I believe I’m going to have to find a reason to employ a Master Carpenter here on the estate,” Serena says as she moves her body in a steady rhythm over Bernie’s, leaving her with very little to do except hang on to Serena’s hips as she rides Bernie just as Alex used to love to do.

Bernie considers Serena’s words, contemplating the idea of living somewhere on the estate and Serena coming to her in secret to get her fill of Bernie’s phallus. It’s a delightful idea, but she cannot see it happening. 

Eventually Serena climaxes a second time and Bernie wraps her arms around her, drawing her to lie down atop her, her phallus still inside her. 

“Did you climax again?” Serena asks breathlessly.

“Not yet.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“It’s fine,” Bernie says. “I don’t mind.”

Serena stares at her, shakes her head, then begins to rock to and fro, their breasts rubbing against each other; within a few minutes Bernie climaxes a second time and she breathlessly thanks Serena.

“No need for you to be so noble,” she says firmly. 

They eventually climb off the bed and move into what used to be Serena’s husband’s dressing room on the other side of the room. There they set buckets of water, that were waiting nearby, to warm in front of the fire; once the water’s warm enough they empty it into the bathtub, then climb in and bathe each other.

Fully dressed again, Bernie slips her fingers into a pocket in her leather coat and pulls out the gift she’d crafted for Serena. 

“I know you wanted a wooden phallus for the horse,” she says, “but I thought you might prefer this one instead.” She places the leather phallus in Serena’s hand and gets a very enthusiastic kiss in response. 

“Thank you, Bernie. This is truly kind of you. And now that I’ve experienced your leather phallus, I shall use this one and imagine it’s you.”

Bernie bites back an appreciative moan, smiling shyly instead. “I hope you will enjoy it.”

“I’m certain I shall.”

Bernie makes her way back down the servants’ stairs, pleased that she meets none of Serena’s servants on the way. She sets out to walk back into town, forcing her mind to steer clear of Serena and the pleasure they had taken in each other. She knows very well that Lady Serena Campbell is entirely out of her league and to imagine otherwise is mere foolishness. Still, she thinks she will indulge herself in recalling their encounter when she is alone in her bed at night. 

SC-BW-SC-BW-SC

Three days later a note arrives from Holby Manor: Lady Serena Campbell is so satisfied with her work in crafting the rocking horse that she requires Bernie to build her a new carriage since the old one was damaged when someone drove their buggy into it. A cottage has been set aside for her use for the duration and there is a small outbuilding nearby which Serena believes will prove sufficient for a workshop. A postscript at the bottom of the note reads: _I will pay you handsomely for your work in both gold and other goods._ Bernie feels heat pool between her legs at the last two words – the opportunity is too good to miss, even though she knows that there can be nothing between them in the long run. In the short term, however, Bernie will take whatever Serena is willing to offer her, foolish though it might be. She suspects she will end up getting hurt, but it’s a price she’s willing to pay for the sake of sharing a bed, however briefly or infrequently, with a woman as sensual as Serena Campbell, Lady of the Manor.


End file.
